The Hunter's Prey II
by Sarah36396
Summary: When Clint Barton spares the life of a wanted assassin he is thrown into an unexpected adventure. As time progresses will he gain a valuable partner or dangerous enemy? Edited version of The Hunter's Prey. Some things are the same, some are different.
1. Chapter 1

The night air was still and silent, the sky hidden behind thick grey clouds that produced no breeze. The creatures of the forest were hidden away in dens with their young as they sought shelter from the heavy snow fall that had descended on the forest. The only disturbance amongst the trees came from a creature who prowled about on two legs as if it was death itself- it moved like a shadow, swift and silent, as it glided over the snow covered ground. A pair of blue eyes that seemed to smolder in the darkness were constantly moving, scanning the thicket for any sign of movement. The graceful and careful movements made one thing clear to the world: this being was looking to claim a life. This was a hunter stalking his prey.

The silence of night was broken by a sigh as Clint stepped onto the rocky ledge that looked out over the valley below. His breath turned white in front of his face and he shivered slightly as snow fell on his shoulders. He had been away from the warmth of a fire for hours and his body was beginning to feel sluggish, as if he hadn't slept for some time. Another shiver wracked his body as he reached up and grabbed a low branch of a pine, using more of his strength to pull himself into the tree. He scaled the thick limbs with ease until he was perched in the top, much like a hawk. His eyes swept across the scene below him and he couldn't help but sigh once more.

He had finally reached his destination, but that had been the easy part. Before him lay a compound that was surrounded by high concrete walls. Spot lights were perched at each corner, sweeping back and forth across the woods. Guards paced along the snow covered walls, keeping an eye out for any sign of trouble. From his perch Clint could see down into the courtyard where several more guards roamed about. Their guns were slung lazily over their shoulders as if they expected no trouble; they were too far away from civilization to worry about intruders. Beside the courtyard lay Clint's real target- a line of housing units. His eyes trained on window until a flash of red caught his eye. His breath caught in his throat and he dropped from the tree, crouching low to the ground.

He took a moment to stretch his stiff limbs before gliding off towards the compound once more. The heavy snowfall covered his tracks as soon as he made them and the dark of night made him a living shadow; a silent, deadly shadow. The minutes slowly passed as he crept closer to the compound, his eyes keeping a close watch on the guards over ahead. He finally reached the base of the wall and he took a deep breath as he thought of the task that lay before him: he would have to climb the wall.

Clint hung his bow over his shoulder and looked up at the cracked stone, picking out enough hand holds to take him to the top. He took a deep breath before stepping into the first crack and hoisting himself up. His fingers gripped at the small holds and he slowly began to scale the wall. The icy film caused him to slip several times and he would scramble to regain his footing before he fell. Miraculously the guards didn't hear his grunts of pain and he finally neared the top of the wall. He stopped and closed his eyes, letting his ears see for him; he heard the guards footsteps as they paced across the wall and he began to count the steps, waiting until they were as far away as possible. With a burst of strength he heaved himself onto the narrow wall and baulked at the sight before him-a thirty foot drop was staring up at him and he didn't have enough time to pick out a way down. The guards would be turning around any minute and then months of surveillance would be blown. He hesitated a moment before launching himself off the wall, closing his eyes and bracing himself for impact.

With a grunt he landed in the deep snow, pain coursing through his leg as a rock stabbed into his calf. A cry in Russian tongue forced him to ignore the pain and he scrambled for the cover of the shadows, hoping he hadn't been spotted. Seconds passed and the guards yelled at each other a bit longer before going back to their sentry duty. Clint waited a minute longer before slinking forward once more, sticking close to the cover of the wall. He slipped past several guards with ease, a sense of disgust rising in him with each man he passed. These people had become far to confident in their concrete fortress.

All others thoughts were cleared from his mind as he reached the first of the housing units and he carefully used a trashcan to gain access to the roof. He crouched and silently began moving across the roof, the thick snow muffling any sounds his feet would have made. Clint continued to skillfully navigate the rooftops until he was half way to the fourth house. His eyes settled on the window below him and he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he tried to calm his nerves.

His heart rate began to increase as he studied the window and for the first time in years he felt nervous. His palms were slick with sweat as he clutched his bow tighter, trying to see through the frost that covered the window. He knew she was in there, he knew that she could kill him as easily he could kill her. His eyes closed as he forced himself to take another deep breath, wishing that someone else had been given this mission. He instinctively notched an arrow and opened his eyes, shock coursing through his body. Green eyes stared back at him, filled with a mixture of hatred and sadness. The arrow on his bow fell to the roof with a thud and he stood frozen in place as they stared at each other. The minutes passed by in tense silence as he tried to make sense of things- why hadn't he taken the shot?

"Вы приехали, чтобы убить меня." The statement made clint jump and he mentally cursed as he remembered telling Coulson that he could skip the Russian lessons-now he was going to regret it. "Пожалуйста сделайте. Убейте меня теперь. Поместите стрелку через мое сердце. Закончите этот ад на земле, в которую меня тянули." She spoke again and Clint was surprised to hear the slight pleaing tone in her voice; this was the infamous Black Widow-the man killer. "Kill me," She finally said in English. It was a demand full of self loathing and anger. She reached for her gun and Clint flinched, but she tossed it aside and held her arms up. "Do it now. Shoot me."

"No." Clint wouldn't have been sure he actually spoke the words if her face had not contorted in surprise. He was defying direct kill order from the council and defying everything he had ever taught himself; never show mercy to a target, never. Especially when that target was on the most wanted list. "I won't." He repeated, this time a bit quieter.

"Why?" She hissed, her green eyes flashing in anger.

"Because I won't shoot an unarmed man." Clint knew it sounded ridiculous.

"How noble." The disgust was evident in her voice. "You are pathetic. Kill me."

"No. I've been watching you-"

"I know. I saw you coming from the hill. I saw you in Paris and in London too."

Clint's eye brows rose in surprise at that; he was sure he had remained unseen. "Why didn't you kill me then?"

"Because I knew you would come for me. I was hoping you would turn out to be a bit more ruthless." She pursed her lips.

"Sorry to disappoint." His brow creased. "I won't kill you though. I do not believe you are like they say. I think you want good."

"Who are you to judge? You watch me for a week and suddenly you know me?" She spat at him. "Complete your orders! Kill me!"

"I won't kill an innocent person." He said calmly, although his heart was pounding.

"Innocent?" She snorted. "I have killed people. Entire families; mothers, fathers, children. All of them. I am far from innocent, иностранец."

"You have been doing what you had to do in order to survive." Clint said in a soft tone. "We have all been there. I've been there. There are other ways though."

"What I have done is punishable by death. There is no other way."

"We all have red on our ledger," Clint's voice was nostalgic, brief pain flashing on his face before he resumed his stony mask once more. "There are ways to wipe it out."

"Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't. But I can help you. You can leave this," he spread his hands, guestering to the compound. "Stop being Ianvitch's lap dog, stop being locked away until you are needed. Let me help you."

"Why? Why do you want to help me?"

"I...I don't know. Just a gut feeling."

She snorted at that, bending down to retrieve her gun. She noticed the way he flinched and she inwardly smiled: it was good for him to be afraid. She looked around her room a moment, trying to make a decision. She could leave this hell...or she could stay. She ignored the hand he offered as she crawled out the window and dropped to the snow with a sigh. "Well? Let's get moving. Unless you want to stand up there and freeze."

"Wait?"

"What now?" She asked irritably, narrowing her eyes.

"What is your name?"

"You know my name."

"No, what is your name?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"I am Clint. Clint Barton."

"That is nice. Now let's go," she ignored him as he leapt off the roof and onto the ground. "There is a secret tunnel behind the barracks. We can easily get out through there."

Clint nodded as he followed her lead, doubt gnawing at his chest. Had he made the right call? Would she kill him as soon as they were alone? What would Fury and Coulson say? At that thought he groaned and ran a hand through his hair, dreading his return to base. What had he gotten himself into?


	2. Chapter 2

Snow went flying as Natasha used her boot to take out some of her frustration on the ground. She was sick of the cold and she was irritated with the strange agent that followed her. She wasn't sure what to think about him, but so far she didn't like him. Did he really think that she would provide him her name so easily? Or was he just stupid? That would explain him offering his real name. Unless it wasn't his real name. That thought made her scowl-maybe he still planned to kill her.

'Good luck with that.' She thought to herself. If he tried something she could easily kill him. Or she could go ahead and kill him-he was starting to annoy her. His gaze was everywhere but on her. He wasn't staring or gawking like most men; it was a nice change, but he was breaking her rules. Natasha didn't like people who broke her rules.

"How much further?" Clint asked in a low voice, his eyes sweeping over the ground.

"Ever look down?" Natasha chided as she pushed him out of the way and cleared the snow from where he once stood. She heaved the trap door open and felt a twinge of satisfaction at the annoyed expression on his face.

"Like I was supposed to know." He grumbled as they climbed down into the tunnel. Natasha quietly pulled the door shut behind them, leaving them alone in the dimly lit tunnel. This would be the perfect place for him to make his move...Natasha considered hitting him over the head before he had the chance to do anything, but where would that get her? All she had to go back to was Ianvitch and his cruel men. If he ever found out about her attempted escape she would be punished in unspeakable ways. An involuntary shudder ran down her spine and she swallowed. She would have to take the man's word.

"I assume there will be guards posted at the outlet?" She watched as he notched an arrow on the crazy contraption he called a weapon.

"Obviously. You don't leave a tunnel leading into your base unguarded." She rolled her eyes. Where are we headed?"

"Moscow. My extraction is right outside of the city."

"Then we take the left fork." Natasha nodded towards the darker tunnel.

"How many guards will there be?"

"Two. Do you know where the De Grand hotel is?"

"Yes." She tried to ignore their presence as they began their slow march down the cold tunnel.

"Good,you know the area."

Natasha turned an icy glare on him, stopping him in his tracks. "Stop trying to pry information out of me or I'll shoot you. We should be getting close to the outlet so for god sakes SHUT UP." She hissed. Clint just sighed and shook his head as they continued around a bend in the tunnel.

"Freeze!" Both agents were startled to find a group of men waiting for them, guns aimed straight at their heads.

"Dammit!" Clint grabbed Natasha around the waist and yanked her to the ground, out of the line of fire, and landed on top of her.

"Get your hands off me!" Natasha gave him a firm shove but he barely moved. She resisted the urge to punch him as he rolled to his feet, dragging her around the corner.

"Excuse me for trying to save your life." Clint muttered as they stopped to stand their ground. From their position they would be able to have some control on the flow from either end of the tunnel. A siren began to wail from somewhere above them and Clint watched the woman as she pulled out her pistol,deattatched the silencer and flicked the silencer off in one fluid motion.

Clint returned the stunning arrow from his quiver and hit a button on his wrist back before drawing a more deadly arrow. The tip was razor sharp and glinted wickedly in dim lighting. He strung his bow and turned his back to the Russian spy, facing the opposite end of the tunnel. Footsteps and shouts in Russian echoed through the tunnel and Clint braced himself for the oncoming flood.

Two men rounded each corner and an unspoken agreement was silently passed between the two agents. They fired simultaneously and all four men dropped to the ground within a second of each other. They repeated this tactic several more times as they tried to keep control of the men. After a few minutes Clint's side had become to crowded for his bow. Without a single signal the two agents swapped sides without missing a beat and their weapons continued the sound in harmony.

Several more minutes passed until the rush of men turned into a trickle and then to a stop. Silence stretched through the tunnel and Clint replaced an unused arrow back into his quiver. His brow creased as he thought about what had just happened; two unfamiliar agents had just worked together like they had spent hours practicing with each other. They had achieved perfect synchronization and it had only took seconds; it had come naturally.

"Impressive." Clint said under his breath. Natasha raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she turned her back to him. Her thoughts were similar to his, but she was disturbed that someone could match her so easily. This Hawkeye fellow would need further watching.

"Ianvitch is sure to send more reinforcements. We need to keep moving." She stated as she stepped over a corpse-the body of a former comrade. She felt no remorse of pity for the man. These people had taken her whole life from her. They had turned her very existence into a living hell. And now a foreign agent was offering her a way out of the hellish cycle. She shook her head at the absurdity of it all. Her life would never be normal.

.

.

.

"Barton!" Coulson's voice was full of relief as he answered the phone. "Where in the hell have you been? Your extraction was set for two hours ago!"

"Busy, no time to explain." Clint huffed as he fired several shots over his shoulder, hoping that one would find a pursuer.

"Was that a gun?"

"No, it was fireworks. I am on a beach in Honolulu." Clint snapped. "Yes it was a gun! I need emergency evac. I am under heavy fire and I have another agent with me."

"Another agent? What in the hell did you do this time Barton?"

Clint noticed the slight smirk on the Russian spy's face and he knew that she had heard Coulson's remark.

"Just get me that extraction!" Clint barked before shoving the phone back into his pocket and firing several more shots over his shoulder.

"You are a horrible shot." Natasha scowled.

"This isn't my weapon of choice." He shot back. "Here comes our ride." Clint cast a glance upwards towards the approaching helicopter.

"He isn't going to be able to land." Natasha frowned.

"You're right." Clint grinned like a mad man as another bullet flew past him. The chopper contained to gain ground on them until it was right over head, the force of the blades bending the trees back. "I hope you're a good climber."

A steel ladder dropped from the helicopter and Clint grabbed ahold, allowing the momentum to yank him off his feet. He climbed at a quick pace, wincing every time a bullet would land next to his hand. He wanted to look down to see if the woman was below him, but he knew he couldn't quit climbing. With a grunt he finally pulled himself onto the deck and out of danger.

"Here." He offered the woman a hand but she ignored him as she climbed onto the deck. She brushed herself off before sitting down across from him, a frown on her face,

"Nice work." Clint offered as he sat down, breaking his bow down and tucking it into its case. He pulled quiver off and tucked it beside his bow case, watching the woman as she blatantly ignored him. She pulled out her gun and began to clean the barrel, her eyes avoiding his.

With a shrug Clint closed his eyes, deciding it wasn't worth his time. Clint was used to the stony silence that surrounded him-he was a loner by nature, but there was something in the air that he couldn't place. It didn't make him uneasy, but he wanted to know what it was. Clint was nearly asleep when the foreign spy finally spoke. It was barely audible, but she had spoken.

"Romanoff. You can call me Romanoff."

"It's nice to meet you Agent Romanoff." Clint smiled, but all he got in return was an icy stare of an assassin.


	3. Chapter 3

"Wake up," Natasha scowled at the sleeping man that sat across from her. He mumbled something but didn't move, his jaw sagging slightly. She nudged him with the toe of her boot, a look of disgust on her face. "Come on." She gave him a firm kick in the shin.

"Hey!" Clint grunted, his eyes snapping open. "What was that for?" He demanded, reaching down to rub the sore spot on his leg.

"We've landed." She said curtly, reloading her pistol-an action that Clint didn't miss.

"Ah," Clint replied slowly, drawing the word out as he stretched. "This is about to get interesting." He chuckled to himself at the thought of marching the Russian Spy into a SHIELD base, even if it was a small one. "My handler should be inside. We will need to check in with him so we can get your situation figured out."

"My situation?" Natasha arched an eyebrow. His carefree, lazy attitude was really starting to grind on her nerves; she was dying to know how hard she could hit him.

"Yes, Romanoff, your situation. Ya know, this mess that we are in." He waved his hands about.

"Uh, this is YOUR mess." Natasha reminded him with a frown. "And what would need to be figured out?" She demanded.

"Touchy, oh so touchy." Clint shook his head. "Think about it fancy pants, we only have a few options here-" He dodged the fist she threw at him. "We could just let you walk away, but there is always the chance that Ianvitch could hunt you down or kill you. And stop snorting like that, it is a possibility." He frowned at her. "We could let you walk away and live a normal life, but that wouldn't be fair to me." He grinned. "So we'll make you an agent!"

"You really are crazy!" Natasha laughed coldly. "I knew you were off your rocker. As if a foriegn agency would pick up any old assassin who came along. You need to have your head checked out."

"That's what he said too..." Clint muttered to himself before shaking his head. "But anyway, I am perfectly sane for the time being. But let's be logical about this-"

"Because you have been oh so logical so far," she interjected.

"You've given SHIELD a lot of grief. You've killed targets we needed alive, you've caused mistrust in witness protection programs, and you broke into the National Defense Building. I have seen the way you work- you get the job done, no questions asked. You are an incredible agent, you are just on the wrong side." Clint shrugged as if it was that simple.

"The wrong side? Who are you to decide that?" She snapped. "This isn't some game or movie. There is no bad guy or good guy. Everyone, and I mean everyone, has blood on their hands."

"You're right. It is a personal choice. We are all different." Clint shrugged once more. "You can come in with me or walk away."

"You wouldn't let me."

"Who am I to stop you?" He asked in a low tone.

"I-" Natasha frowned, unable to find words. He was offering her a way out. A chance to start over and clear her name. She could live a new life, make up for the sins of her past. The offer would have sounded perfect to most, but she had learned to never accept things for what they were.

"You have no reason to trust me, but trust me. The more skilled of us aren't really under SHIELDs control-they just like to pretend they are big and bad. I could walk away from all this right now, but I don't. Unfortunately I wouldn't be very good at lying on a couch all day."

"I guess you have a point there," she admitted bitterly. "I guess I will listen to what you have to say...for now. How do you know they won't shoot me? Why would they give me a chance?"

"I've been in your position." Something passed over Clint's face, but Natasha couldn't place it. Was it pain? "Fury knows a good agent when he sees one, even if they don't see eye to eye with him." Clint chuckled a bit at his own joke. "But I guess you'll just have to see that for yourself."

"Fine." Natasha frowned. "Let's go meet this handler of yours. If someone doesn't shoot me I might take your offer to mind.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Hey! Woah there!" Clint yelled as he jumped between Coulson and the woman he had come to know as Romanoff. The minute she had stepped through the door Couldos had drew his gun and aimed it at her, his eyes wide. Natasha whipped her own pistol out just to make a point, resulting in a stand off. She shot Clint a told-you-so look and he heaved a sighed. "Let's put the guns down. I've seen enough target practice for one day."

"Barton, that is the-"

"Yeah, the Black Widow." Clint waved a hand dismissively. "Again, let's put the guns down."

"What is she doing here? With you? Alive?!" Coulson's forehead scrunched together and Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Relax Phil." Clint gave him an easy going smile and shifted his weight. The veins in Coulson's neck were popping and Clint was satisfied to see him flustered. "She is with me."

"Obviously! You were supposed to kill her! No offense." He added hastily, frowning at the woman. Natasha just shrugged and holstered her gun, picking at a lump of dirt under her nail.

"I couldn't kill her."

"Why not?"

"She was unarmed."

"Oh, how noble of you! I didn't realize you had taken up the role of 'knight in shining armor." Clint frowned as he saw Romanoff's mouth twitch with the faintest hint of smile.

"Shut up. I wanted to help her. She needed a way out. We can offer her that."

"I do not need ~your~ help."

"Can it." He shot her a glare.

"I know you can help her Phil. You helped me."

"You were a whole different case Barton and you know it."

"A nut case?" Natasha offered with a serious face.

"I wasn't in a Russian Mafia like the Red Room, but I was a wanted Assassin and a criminal working for the wrong people. Basically the same thing."

"You know that isn't true. You only went wrong because of your bro-"

"Don't say it." Clint cut him off, his tone dark. Natasha was surprised to hear the anger in his voice and she noticed that his eyes were practically grey from darkening. "Don't bring him into this. This isn't about him. Either you can help her or I can-I'll make a mess doing it, but I'll be damned if I don't."

"You and I will be having a discussion later." Coulson frowned at Clint before turning to the Russian Spy. She had a look of annoyance on her face, not that he could blame her; Clint wasn't the easiest person to deal with. "I am Phil Coulson." He offered a her a hand but she didn't shake it.

"You can call me Romanoff." Natasha stated simply, shooting a glare at Clint.

Clint returned her glare, suddenly feeling childish, as if he should be sticking his tongue out at her. He wasn't sure what it was, but something about her made him feel odd. Wi a frown he shook his head and turned on his heel.

"It'll be a miracle if we all make it to base alive."


	4. Chapter 4

There was only one word that came to mind when Natasha thought about the last two days: Crazy. It was the only word that could properly sum up the whole situation. The days had flown by at an alarming pace and she had stayed busy from dawn to dusk. Firstly, she had been escorted back to the main base of SHIELD, where she had met the Director. Nick Fury had proven to be quite a character. Natasha decided he was a hard ass, but she could tell that he was concerned for his agents. He had been a bit hesitant about the whole situation, but he agreed to give her a trial.

After their meeting she herded to a small meeting room for debriefing. The small man that had tried to interview her was terrified and he had hardly asked any questions, much to Natasha's relief- These people didn't deserve to know her past. After her "interrogation" she met with a tall woman with a no bullshit attitude. Natasha didn't like her, but she respected the way she took care of business. Maria Hill assigned her a room and gave her a basic run down of the base before leaving her alone. Natasha had retreated to her room, which was in a more vacant part of the base. She appreciated the silence, but she knew it was an arrangement to keep the other agents safe.

Her first night in American had been a restless one. She kept tossing and turning, nightmares plaguing her dreams. She had rose early, planning to go on a run, but to her dismay someone was already at her door. The small woman had introduced herself as Jessica and she wanted to take Natasha's information. Natasha had given her what she needed, keeping her name as Natasha Romanoff; she wasn't willing to keep the name from her past. It came with too much baggage, too many memories.

Next she had been sent down to the training center for evaluation, where her skills were put to the test. She easily passed every test they threw at her, excelling in the areas of hand-to-hand combat, firearms, and stealth. After proving herself as "qualified" her pistol was returned and she was turned loose to do whatever she pleased, as long as it was within reason. Part of her had wanted to look around and get aquainted with the base, but she had returned to her room instead. She knew she needed sleep and she planned on getting some.

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.

.

Three days later Natasha had her second meeting with Clint Barton. She was sound asleep in her room when someone began pounding on her door. With a groan she rolled over and looked at the clock. "6 a.m? You're kidding me right?" Natasha threw her blanket off and rolled out of bed with a frown. "I'm about to kill someone." She muttered as she pulled on a pair of pants and crossed the room. "Who is it?" She demanded.

"Barton."

"Who?" Maybe she could play dumb and he would go away.

"Clint. Clint Barton. Your knight in shining armor."

"Ug." She sighed to herself, leaning her forehead against the wall. "What could you possibly want?" The last thing she wanted to do was deal with anyone this early, let alone the annoying male agent. She had decided that she did not particularly like him, although she wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the fact that he had shown her mercy; he was responsible for her new life, therefor she was in debt to him. Either way his presence was enough to make her skin crawl.

"Can I come in?"

"No."

"Why not?" He complained.

"Go away Barton!" She snapped, hoping to intimidate him.

"Aw, come on Tasha."

Natasha scowled at that and nearly yanked the door from the hinges as she flung it open. "Do NOT call me that." She glared daggers at him.

"Oookay," he shrugged, rolling his eyes before flashing her a kiss-my-butt grin. Natasha wanted to choke him, but that would look bad, considering she hadn't even been on base a week. Instead she went to slam the door in his face, only to have him catch it and force it back open.

"What do you want?" She demanded, crossing her arms and scowling at him. He might be stronger, but Natasha was convinced that she could take him.

"You have got to lighten up a little, Romanoff. I came down here because my sparring partner bailed on me again. Apparently he is tired of getting beat up all the time. I need someone who is on my level. Care to give it a go?" He leaned against the door frame with a bored expression.

"You are asking me to kick your ass?" She arched an eyebrow.

"I am asking you to try." He taunted her. Natasha cocked her head to the side, deciding that it wouldn't hurt to beat him up a little bit-she needed to blow off some steam.

"You're on pretty boy." She stepped into the hall,pushing him into the wall as she passed.

"You think I am pretty?" Clint grinned as he followed her down the hall towards the training center. Natasha just rolled her eyes, ignoring him; she would be able to beat him up soon enough.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Clint stood in one corner of the sparring arena, jumping up and down in place. Natasha watched him with a frown as she wondered how someone so childish could be an assassin. He was always cracking jokes and as far as she could tell he was rarely serious.

"Ready?" He asked with a sharkish grin, rolling his shoulders. Natasha watched as his muscles rippled underneath the form fitting shirt and she slowly shook her head; he was an idiot, an attractive idiot. There was no denying that he was a good looking guy, but unfortunately she knew him- it ruined the appeal.

"As I'll ever be." Natasha shrugged.

"Then let's get started."

The playful demeanor changed as soon as she stepped towards him. He took on a serious air as the two agents circled each other, their movements eerily similar. Both of them were waiting for their opponent to make the first move, to make themselves vulnerable. The minutes dragged by in silence but Natasha had already had enough. With lightning speed she lunged at him, going straight for a take down. Clint barely had time to jump to the side and avoid her attack, but he was just as fast. He countered and grabbed her arm, attempting to drag her to the floor. Natasha yanked away with enough force to make him stagger and she aimed a punch at his mouth. Her fist connected with his jaw and Clint decided that it was a good thing to pull punches; she had a lot of power for being such a little thing.

The fight raged on, each throwing punches as they tried to over power their opppenent. Clint feigned a punch to her stomach as he swept out his leg, aiming for the back of her knees. To his surprise Natasha rolled her eyes as she whipped her hand out and caught his leg, flipping him backward. Clint landed on his back with a grunt, a stunned expssion on his face as Natasha moved towards him, a look of determination of her face; she would get him into a choke hold. Clint threw up his knees and managed to push her away before rolling to his feet and rejoining the fight.

The minutes flew by as the intensity of the battle increased. Their blows became more solid, their maneuvers more advanced, as they each tried to gain the upper hand. Their motions were blurred by the speed at which they were performed and the two agents were focused solely on each other. Their breathing began to become labored and sweat dripped down Clint's back as he ducked under a kick that was aimed for his head.

"Break!" The call came from outside of the ring and both agents jumped in surprise. They backed away from each other and Clint doubled over, his hands on his knees, as he tried to catch his breath. Sweat dripped off of his face and onto the mat with little splashes, reminding Clint that he really wanted a shower. He finally looked up and was surprised to see a small crowd outside the ring.

"That was spectacular! I've never seen anyone spar like that!" Coulson grinned at him and a murmur of agreement ran through the crowd.

"Thanks." Clint cleared his throat and turned to Natasha. "You're good." He frowned as his eyes picked out the small bruises on her arms. "Sorry."

"Like wise. You have a pretty nice shiner on your chin."

"Thanks for filling in for Paul. I don't think we've ever had a match that was so intense."

"I'm guessing that Paul isn't even close to your level. You are a bit better than the average agent." She shrugged. "I need a shower."

"Same time tomorrow?" Clint called to her retreating back.

"Yeah. Same time tomorrow." Natasha pursed her lips. She didn't have to like him to learn from him. Sparring with him would only improve her skills.

"Great." Clint grinned as he rubbed his jaw. It wasn't much, but it was a start. "Phil, I think I need an aspirin."

"No, you need some ice."

"That bad?" Clint groaned.

"That bad."

"She got me pretty good."

"She kicked your ass Barton. There is no denying that." Coulson chuckled, the ideas swirling around in his head. He wasn't willing to bet on it just yet, but he had an idea that the two agents were going to be the next big thing around the base.


	5. Chapter 5

The last few months had flown by for Natasha as she had become accustomed to life on the base. Missions were scare and she didn't leave very often, but there was always something for her to do. She kept her tiny apartment clean and spent the majority of her time there; there was no reason for her to leave. She didn't have, or want, friends and there was nothing else to do. Her free time was spent reading or sparring with Clint, which had become a daily thing.

The two agents would meet early in the morning for their daily match and a small crowd usually followed. They almost always had spectators and their duels were somewhat of a legend around the base. Their speed and flawless moves made the matches a work of art and the younger agents were always hoping to get a glimpse of their technique.

Natasha still could not stand Clint, but she had to admit that he was knowledgable and skillful. He had shown her several new moves and her own skills had improved due to their intense training sessions, but that did't make him any less annoying. He continued to try to talk to her when they would see each other-he was trying to make her feel accepted and that annoyed her even more. At times they would be getting along fine and then Clint would ask a question and she could turn cold once more.

Natasha and Clint had just finished a training session and were headed towards the break room, the air awkward and thick between them. Clint was racking his brain, trying to think of something to say that would resolve the situation; he had asked about her parents and she had clammed up on him, giving him the cold shoulder once more. He wasn't even sure why he bothered trying to talk to her. She obviously wasn't looking for a friend and he was a loner by nature. But something about her reminded Clint of himself and he was curious to know more about her. It was a challenge to him, a challenge he was losing.

"What?" Natasha snapped as Clint sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Am I not supposed to breath?" Clint gave her a skeptical look.

"I would prefer it if you didn't." She glared at him.

"Who would have guessed that?" Clint grumbled as he lengthened his stride, walking in front of her. He fought the urge to turn around as he felt her eyes drill holes into the back of his head- if looks could kill he would be dead. "Women." He muttered to himself.

"Do you EVER shut up?" Natasha practically yelled and several agents stopped walking to stare at them.

"Do you?" Clint countered, turning to glare at her. "What in the hell did I do to you?"

"Nothing!"

"Then why are you jumping down my throat all the time!?" Clint demanded.

"Because I can!"

"That is a great reason, Nat," he rolled his eyes.

" . ." She hissed before taking a swing at him. Clint barely had time to duck before jumping away, glaring at her.

"Really red? You want to try that again?"

"Maybe I do." She glared daggers at him. "Scared?"

"Like hell. Come on then." He took a step towards her.

"Woah! Hey!" Coulson yelled as he ran down the hall, his tie trailing out behind him. "Knock it off you two!" He got between them and held his hands out, scolding both of them.

"Move Phil," Clint commanded, still glaring at Natasha.

"No. Knock it off Barton."

"Don't protect him, move." Natasha spat.

"I said KNOCK IT OFF!" He barked at the two of them. "You two are worse than rookies! This is the third time this week that you two have gotten into it!"

"It is her fault!"

"Are we in first grade Barton? You are both at fault."

"If he wasn't an insufferable pig I wouldn't have to-"

"I said stop it!" Coulson cut her off. "That does it. I have had it. I am the only handler around here who has to deal with two morons!"

"Excuse me?" Clint crossed his arms but Coulson ignored him.

"Get your asses back to your rooms. And so help me if I find out you left I will personally shoot the both of you! Now GO!" He yelled, watching as they stalked off in opposite directions. As they rounded the corner he noticed several agents staring at him so he cleared his throat and straightened tie. He was sick of dealing with two adults who acted like children: It was time to talk to Fury.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Clint frowned as he approached the conference room and found Natasha leaning against the wall. Her arms were crossed and she had a scowl on her face as she watched him approach. "What are you doing here?" He demanded, glaring at her. It had only been a few hours since their argument and both were still pissed.

"I could ask you the same thing." Natasha pursed her lips, frowning at him.

"Coulson called me down. Said something about a mission."

"No, Coulson called me down. I think you-"

"Come on you two," Coulson cut her off as he pushed the door open, gesturing for them to enter the conference room. "Come have a seat." He watched as the two crossed the room, sitting on opposite sides of the table. They were still glaring at each other and he wouldn't be surprised if Natasha was kicking Clint under the table. "As you probably know, half the base knows about your little...dispute this morning in the hallway. Naturally, it is up to me to punish you, since I am your handler. Lucky me. I talked to Fury not too long ago and despite my efforts, he would not let me suspend you...wipe that smirk off your face Barton." He glared at the young man. "Now, our main problem here is that you two can't be left alone together without killing each other, so naturally we are sending you away on a mission."

Both agents perked up at that and they leaned forward in their seats, their attention now on Coulson rather than each other. He knew that each was dying to get off base and go out into the world, but he had something special in mind- Something that they would not see coming. He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face and cleared his throat.

"Your will be going to Paris tomorrow morning. Your mission is to assassinate several head figures of a anarchist group. They will be attending a ball that is being hosted by a nobel man in the area. We have confirmed that he is not a part of the group,so he and the other guest are not to be harmed. This is a mission of stealth-you are to remain undercover at all times. As soon as your cover is compromised in the slightest you are to get out of there. Understood?"

"Sounds simple enough. How many targets am I looking at?"

"Seven at least. But if you can identify more you can take them out."

"I think you are missing an important question." Natasha chimed in.

"And what would that be? Oh wise one." Clint added sarcastically.

"Who is "you"? You never specified." She said simply and Clint frowned as he realized she was right.

"Both of you." Coulson couldn't help but grin.

"What?" They demanded at the same time, scowling at their handler.

"You heard me. Both of you. Your cover will be a noble French couple-this is an open event so security isn't tight."

"You are kidding,right?" Natasha asked in disbelief. Barton was too busy trying to control his gaping jaw to ask the question.

"No, I am not kidding. If you two can't get along willingly you will be forced to. You two can either work together or die trying. So go pack your bags and get moving!"

"Coulson-"

"Not but's Barton! Now move!" Coulson watched as the two agents slinked from the room, scowling and pushing past each other. He hoped Fury was right and they would end up working together, Otherwise SHIELD was about to lose two valuable agents.


	6. Chapter 6

Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean...

Thunder rolled outside the plane and Clint sighed as he thumbed through the thin manilla folder for the fifth time that hour, hoping to remember what he read. He was having a hard time focusing on the words before him; his mind was filled with other things, namely the woman that was sitting across from him. Natasha hadn't spoken a single word to him since Coulson had assigned them their mission. She had boarded the plane with a vacant expression and ignored him as if he wasn't even there.

Clint had decided it was best to let her sit in silence and he did his best to ignore her, although he found her presence to be distracting. The endless patter of rain on the window became a steady sound in Clint's mind and his eyes began to close as he drifted off. His head dipped towards his chest as his breathing slowed, his mind slowing as well.

"We are going to have to work together." Natasha finally spoke, turning to face him. "Oh, I didn't know you were asleep."

"You're fine." Clint ran a hand across his face and raised his head to look at her. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"I don't know, is it?" Natasha sighed. She knew she had been hard on Barton, although she wasn't sure why. Something about him just bugged her and she couldn't seem to control her mouth when he was around.

"I don't think so." He shrugged, closing the folder and placing it on the table once more. "Our escort will meet us a few miles out of town,then he will drive us to-"

"The Saint Marks Hotel. Yes, I know. I have read the file." She said, frowning mentally at her tone-she sounded far more sharp than she had intended to.

"Just trying to make conversation." Clint defended himself.

"Well, stop."

"Why? What is so wrong with talking to people?" He crossed his arms.

"Friends talk. We are not friends."

"Fair enough." Clint shrugged. "We could be." He added as an after thought. He knew it sounded crazy, but he liked her some reason. He had a feeling that she would be a fun person, assuming she ever pulled the stick out of her butt. Clint chuckled a bit at that thought, shaking his head.

"Excuse me?"

"We could be friends."

Natasha snorted, rolling her eyes. "Yes, that will happen. Just shut up Barton. We are temporary partners. That is it."

"Fine."

"Fine." She repeated, closing the conversation as she turned to look out the window once more. Lightning flashed somewhere in the distance, lighting up the night for a brief moment. As she watched the rain fall against the window she felt her eyes droop and she yawned, deciding it was time to take a nap. She closed her eyes and her mind began to wonder, her thoughts still on the conversation she had just had.

A thin twelve year old girl huddled underneath the small overhang of a building as rain fell, soaking anything it could touch. Lightning flashed in the distance and she flinched, terror coursing through her body. Her wet clothes clung to her body and she shivered as a cold breeze blew down the alley. She was alone. All alone. Tears streamed down her face as her mind took her back two years, back to a warm house and a happy life. She had loving parents then, a warm bed, a warm meal. Now she had nothing. No parents, no food, no warm bed. A sob wracked her body and she wrapped her arms around her knees as her tears fell like the rain.

Suddenly something warm pierced the cold and she was startled to see a hand on her shoulder. She tried to scramble away but the hand contained a firm grip on her, holding her in place. "Is is ok." The man spoke in her native tongue and she looked up, searching for his face. He had bright blue eyes, a short beard and wavy brown hair. Her heart ached as she thought of her father, who had looked a lot like this stranger. "I am not going to hurt you."

"Who are you?" She said defensively, wishing she could run away- too many men had tried to snatch her off the streets already. She was tired of breaking noses and fingers, she just wanted it all to stop.

"My name is Hason Ianvitch. Most people just call me Ian though."

"What do you want?"

"Nothing really. I saw you sitting here all alone and I thought you might want a friend. It is an awfully nasty night to be alone."

"I don't need friends," she raised her chin a bit in defiance and Ian chuckled.

"We all need friends darling."

"Don't call me that." She glared at him.

"My apologies. If you don't mind me asking, why are you here alone? Shouldn't you be at home, out of the rain?"

"I don't have a home. My parents are dead."

"I see. What a shame." Ian looked at her for a long time and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "What is your name?"

"Natalia."

"Natalia. What a pretty name." He smiled. "Have you ever heard of the Red Room, Natalia?"

"No," she frowned. "What is it?"

"We help little kids like you that have no place to go. I can offer you a warm bed and a warm meal. There are other boys and girls there like you."

"Really?" She looked up at him with a new interest. A bed did sound nice...and she was tired of this rain. "I still don't need friends." She frowned.

"That is fine," he chuckled. "We can get you a private room then, how is that?"

"Ok," she said slowly, still leery of the man.

Ian offered the girl a hand and she took it after a moment, allowing him to pull her to her feet. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders,holding her underneath the shelter of his umbrella. They began walking down the alley together and Natalia breathed a sigh of relief; her life was finally taking a turn for the better.

Natasha woke with a start, the memory fresh in her mind. Her breathing was choppy and uneven, a cold sweat on her forehead. Clint was looking at her with a puzzled expression but she ignored him, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. It had been years since had a dream about her childhood. She had done everything in her power to block that part of her life out, to forget the pain and suffering she had experienced.

"You ok?" Clint asked, knowing better than to push too far.

"Yeah,fine." She lied, standing up and pushing past him as she headed for the back of the plane. She locked herself in the small bathroom and stared into the mirror, as if her reflection would hold all the answers. She closed her eyes as the next memory flooded into her brain, taking over once more.

Life had never been better for twelve year old Natalia. It had been six months since Ian had rescued her from the streets, six months since her life had been turned around. She had a place to call home once more, a place where she felt safe. Life within the small compound was enjoyable; three warm meals were provided to them a day, she had a private room all to herself, self-defense training was given at no cost and the children were left to do what they pleased. Although most of the students were normal children, Natalia preferred to keep to herself and spent much of her time drawing in her room.

When she wasn't drawing she was training with her personal combat instructor, something that only a few select children in the compound had. Natalia's skills at hand-to-hand combat excelled and Ian had assigned her a personal instructor to help further improve her skills. She was able to best the other kids that trained with ease and even managed to give her instructor a run for his money. On top of the instructor Ian would bring her little gifts from the outside world and they often spent hours together, discussing his adventures and travels across the globe. The man had became a father like figure to her, replacing the empty hole in her heart. But she had no clue that all of that would soon change.

Natalia was sitting at her bed, doodling in her notebook as she worked on an elaborate flower, when the familiar knock came at her door. "Come in." She called absently, adding another pedal to the flower with a sigh. Ian smiled as he shut the door behind him and crossed the room to stand beside the bed.

"Ah. Natalia darling. How are we today?" The thirty year old gave her a charming smile.

"Good, I suppose."

"You only suppose? What is the matter dear?"

"Grantzel tried to kiss me again, so I had to beat him up."

"Boys will be boys. The nurse called me to tell me you did quite a number on him, which is the reason I have come to see you."

"Am I in trouble?" She sat the pencil down, frowning at the thought of disappointing him.

"No, of course not!" Ian shook his head. "I am here because it has come to my attention that you have far surpassed everyone's skill level in this facility. You are an excellent fighter, very agile and graceful. Almost like a dancer." He added with a smile, recalling her love for dance. "For someone your size you can do impressive things."

"Thanks." She shrugged, adding a leaf to the stem.

"You are also very bright and talented. Everything I look for in a person. So I have an offer for you. A position in my higher ranking facility has become available. I want you to come train under me and fill this position. You would be a valuable asset to the Red Room as an agent."

"An agent?" She scowled. "What would I do?"

"You would be an assassin. You could kill those who put us in danger."

"No." She didn't hesitate with her answer. "I told you how my parents died and you dare offer that?"

Ian shook his head with a sad sigh. The girl sounded far beyond her years. "Natalia, dear. I am afraid you don't have much of a choice." Ian reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small gun, placing it within his reach but out of hers. "You see, there are only three options here. You can continue to disagree and I can shoot you. Or you can willingly go with me and make things a lot less messier. Or...I can make your life a living hell." He gave her an evil look as he placed his hand on her thigh, his eyes cold and hard. Natalia got the message and she swallowed, fighting back tears.

"I trusted you. You were like a father to me."

"Trust few, love none. That is the code of people like me. I need a decision sooner than later." He snapped impatiently, all friendly demeanor vanishing."I have no time for your childish games."

Natalia stared at him, hatred seeping into her eyes. He had betrayed her. He was stripping her life away from her. She could either die, or be raped until she relented to his control. She was scared to die; she had seen her parents die, she had heard the stories about what happened to nobodies like her when death claimed them. She did not want that. She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked him straight in the eye, rising her chin a bit in defiance. "I'll go."

"Good girl." Ian smiled and reached out to cup her cheek but she jerked away, glaring at him. "I will return tomorrow to collect you and your things. Don't even think about running- you have no where to go and I would hate to have to kill you."

Ian gave her one last cold smile before leaving her alone in her room once more. Natalia pulled the covers up over her shoulders and buried her face in her pillow as sobs wracked her body. Her entire life had just crumbled around her again, all because she trusted someone. It was then, in that moment, that Natalia made a decision: she would never love or trust someone again.

"Natasha." Clint's voice broke through the memory and Natasha was startled to find her face was damp. She hastily wiped the tears away before swallowing, turning to the door.

"What?" She asked in an annoyed voice, trying to sound angry.

"We are about to land...just thought I would let you know." Clint shrugged, puzzled by her odd behavior.

"Ok." She took a deep breath before pushing the door open and brushing past him once more, returning to her seat. Clint watched her with an odd expression, his mind racing. Would he ever be able to figure her? Was she ever going to give him a chance?


	7. Chapter 7

Rain fell heavily upon Paris as a taxi turned into the parking lot of a hotel. It stopped underneath the drop off area and waited patiently for its occupants to exit the vehicle. Clint let out a groan of relief as he stepped out of the cramped cab, stretching his arms towards the ceiling. His muscles were stiff from the long drive and he was glad to be able to move freely once more. He grabbed his bag from the trunk and shouldered it as he looked out over the rainy city, his mind still on Natasha.

She had been silent ever since their encounter on the plane. She had stared out the window with a haunted expression on her face, her eyes full of confliction. Clint had many questions burning in his mind, but he knew better than to ask- everyone had their own demons that they struggled with.

Natasha sighed as she slid out of the car and grabbed her bag, wiping a rain drop from her arm. "Thanks." She handed the cab driver a roll of bills before turning to Clint. His back was to her, his hands shoved into his pockets as he looked out at the city.

"This is one of my favorite places to go." She voiced the though aloud and stepped forward to stand beside him. "It was raining the last time I was here as well."

"I've been here a few times, it is a nice city."

"Yeah, it is." Natasha bit the inside of her lip, hating the small talk. "So..."

"So?" Clint looked down at her.

"Nothing." She shook her head. "Let's go get checked in. I could use a hot shower."

"Ok." Clint shrugged and they entered the hotel together, looking around the bush lobby. Some people lounged around talking and laughing over coffee, while other sat by the rain soaked windows,buried in books. Overall the mood was friendly and inviting, unlike the two agents appearances.

"How can I help you?" A young woman behind the counter addressed Clint, batting her eyelashes at him. Her eyes roamed over his sculpted body and she was completely oblivious to Natasha's presence. She leaned low over the counter, looking up at him with a sweet smile.

"I have reservations for Coleman." Clint gave her his cover name and ignored her flirting.

"Ah, yes...John Coleman?" She purred his name.

"Correct." Clint tried to keep a straight face.

"You reserved two rooms?"

"Yep." He shifted his weight, ignoring her flirtatious looks.

"About that- earlier today a few pipes blew in several different rooms. One of your rooms has some really bad water damage. Guess someone clogged up a toilet." She laughed to herself.

"Charming isn't she?" Natasha muttered under her breath.

"Ok. So let me rent another room. It isn't a big deal." Clint shrugged.

"We are full. As is every other hotel in the area. This is tourist season in Paris Mister." She popped her gum and Clint heaved a sigh.

"You have got to be kidding me." Natasha suddenly snapped,realizing what that meant. "Isn't there-"

"That is fine. We'll take the one room." Clint gave Natasha a keep-quiet look as he cut her off and accepted the room key.

"Like hell it is fine! This is bullshit!" Natasha planted her palms on the countertop."Look here,you can find me another room or-"

"Thanks for you're help." Clint cut her off again, practically dragging Natasha across the lobby and into the nearest elevator.

"Get off me." Natasha shoved him as the doors slid shut. Clint hit the elevator wall with a thud, his eye brows raised in surprise; he often forgot how strong she was. "What the hell Barton?!" She demanded, turning her fierce glare onto him.

"First off, We are supposed to be a couple. Couples generally don't beat on one another. Secondly, I didn't want you to hurt her. It wasn't her fault." Clint shrugged.

"You honestly think I would hurt a civilian? Do you think I am stupid enough to compromise one mission over some annoying blond whore?" Natasha spat at him. He knew nothing about her. He was as stupid as he was the day she met him.

"That is not-" Clint stammered.

"God, you are impossible!" Natasha yelled as the elevator doors opened. Before he could react she snatched the room key from him and started marching down the hall, leaving Clint to scramble after her. "Insufferable!" She yelled back over her shoulder. He was almost to the door when he heard the lock slip into place and he groaned. "INTOLERABLE!" She yelled through the door.

"Natasha, let me in!" He cried pathetically, knocking on the door.

"Go away!" Natasha yelled and Clint heard something break, which was then followed by a long stream of Russian. He sighed as he pulled his bag off and let it drop to the floor with a thud. He slid down beside it and ran a hand over his face, trying to ward off the oncoming head. He leaned back against the wall and rested the back of his head against it, stifling a yawn. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his mind down, deciding it was best to sleep; there was to telling how long he would be outside.

.

.

.

Natasha heaved an irritated sigh as she jerked the blanket free from the edge of the mattress and turned over to the fifteenth time that hour. No matter how hard she tried she just could not get comfortable. She had been trying to fall asleep for the last two hours, but sleep seemed to be eluding her. She tried to convince herself that she was just restless, but Clint was nagging around at the back of her mind.

She had locked him out over four hours ago when her temper had flared. Her anger had slowly simmered down and she had considered letting him in, but her pride said no. So instead of letting him in she had taken a shower and went straight to bed, hoping to forget all about him, but that wasn't going to happen. She would spend all night tossing and turning because of him.

"For the love of-" Natasha flung the blanket off and sat up, raking a hand through her hair. "He is annoying even when he isn't around." She pulled on her jeans as she crossed the room, slamming lights on as she made her way to the front door. She paused and took a deep breath before opening it quietly, her graze dropping to the floor.

Clint was propped up against the wall and half slumped over his bag. His chin was against his chest and it bobbed with the rise and all of his breathing. His once neat hair now fell flat against his head and he worse a peaceful expression; Natasha couldn't help but think that he looked much younger than he really was.

Natasha shook the thoughts from her head and reached down to gently touch his shoulder. "Hey, Clint. Wake up." She pushed his shoulder slightly.

"Hm?" Clint mumbled as he picked his head up, his stiff muscles protesting any movement.

"Come on. Wake up."

"I am awake." He mumbled sleepily as he rubbed his eyes. He finally looked up at her, wincing as his neck muscles lanced with pain. "What do you want?"

"I,uh,thought you might want to come inside." Natasha shifted her weight and avoided his gaze.

"How thoughtful." Clint replied sarcastically, pushing himself to his feet. "I would have loved to come inside four hours ago."

"Don't make me lock you out again." She threatened half heartidly.

"Just saying." Clint shrugged as he picked his bag up, heading into the small hotel room. He didn't hesitate as he tossed his bag onto the floor and grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch. He wrapped it around himself before flopping onto the couch with a yawn. Natasha shook her head flicked the lights off as she made her way back to her room, hoping she could get some sleep now that he was inside.

"Hey Tash?" Clint rolled over, his blue eyes piercing through the darkness.

She considered scolding him for using a pet name but decided it was a waste of breath. "Hmm?"

"I'm sorry." He said genuinely.

Natasha turned around to stare at him for a long moment. He stared back into at her and she finally nodded slowly, feeling worse than she did before. There was no reason for him to apologize- she was the one who had lost her temper. "Yeah,me too." She replied softly. She finally broke his gaze and turned away as she shut the door and put a barrier between them once more.


	8. Chapter 8

The next few days passed in peace and to Natasha's surprise she found them almost enjoyable. The two agents only had a few minor spats and they were able to work together for the most part. Natasha found herself amused by the jokes that Clint would make as they made plans, cleaned weapons, and sparred. There was still a good amount of tension between them, and she wasn't about to open up to Clint, but they were able to exist together without killing one another. It wasn't a big improvement, but it was a start.

The day of the ball finally rolled around and Clint was pacing throughout the hotel room as he waited for Natasha to finish getting ready. He tugged at the dark purple tie that hung around his neck and he smoothed his hair down one more, casting a sidelong look at the mirror. He had to admit that his hair looked better than it had before, thanks to Natasha.

Natasha had finally talked him into letting her cut his hair, although it had taken quite a bit of persuading. Clint knew that it was getting unruly, but he hadn't been sure if the woman could be trusted with a pair of scissors. He had finally given in and to his relief she had done a great job-she hadn't even nicked him once. The experience left him feeling like he could trust her a bit more; she hadn't stabbed him in the neck when she had the chance.

Clint's thoughts were yanked away from him as the bathroom door open behind him. He turned around and his breath caught in his throat as he caught sight of Natasha-she was stunning. The dress she wore,which matched the color of his tie, was light and flowing, but clung to her in all the right places. Her hair was pulled up in a bun, a few loose curls framing her face.

"Wow." Clint finally found his voice as he looked Natasha over. "You look..." Natasha arched an eyebrow, asking the unspoken question. "Stunning. You look stunning." Cling smiled.

"Oh, whatever." Natasha rolled her eyes, ignoring the warm feeling she got from his statement. She wasn't willing to admit that his opinion mattered to her. She also wasn't willing to admit that Clint looked quite dashing now that he was cleaned up and in a tux; it was a nice change from his usual rugged look. "Are you ready?"

"If you're ready I am. You know, us men don't take as long to get ready." He teased with a good natured grin.

"Because you could care less. You would have waltz in there with a raggedy hair cut and sweats if I'd let you."

"You know it." Clint chuckled, wishing she was smile for once. "Let's go make our grand entry." He offered her an arm but Natasha froze in place, a memory crashing down on her.

Natalia frowned at her reflect as she looked into the mirror, a mix of emotions in her mind. It had been a long time since she wore a dress, since before her mother had died, but none of them had been like this one. It was short and clung to her body, leaving her feeling exposed and awkward. She sighed and ran a hand through her long hair as she took another long look at the mirror. She hardly recognized herself anymore; she was no longer the harmless little street girl that Ianvitch had picked up off the streets. She was now a cold, cunning assassin.

It had been five years since that terrible night. Five years since Ianvitch had stole compromised her childhood. He had ripped everything she knew away from her and stuffed in everything he knew, he had turned her into a killer. A killer that was about to be promoted. That thought made her smile slightly-she would have power. Not enough power to change her situation, but enough power to keep the younger creeps away from her. She could have a say in her future...a future that would always revolve around the Red Room.

A tear rolled down her face as the door opened and she felt Ianvitch approached from behind. She looked at his reflection in the mirror, her lip curling in hate. He was wearing a dark tux, his hair slicked back. His eyes were cold and cunning, that evil smirk playing on his lips. Natalia wished she had the power to over take him. She wanted to kill him, she wanted to make him pay. Because of him she would never trust another being, she would never love. Love was for children;children were hurt too easily.

"Natalia dear, you look stunning." He looked her over with the same lustful look that he used when he would violate her. He smiled the all too familiar cold smile and laid a hand on her lower back. "Are you ready?"

"No." She stepped away from his hand.

"Fantastic! Such a joyous occasion. Come dear, let us make our grand appearance."

.

.

.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen of the Red Room. I am proud to present my most valuable project, my dearest student, my shining star!" Ian smiled widely and gestured towards Natalia, who sat a little ways from the stage. Natalia slowly got up and made her way towards the stage, her anger mounting with every step. That man had taken her life from her. He had raped her. He had beaten her. He had forced her to submit to his will. He had broken her heart and shattered her being. Ianvitch had compromised her.

By time she reached Ian her first were curled and she was shaking uncontrollably. She was Angry at the Red Room for taking over her life, angry at her parents for dying and leaving her, angry that no one had saved her from this hell. Angry that she had been so young and naïve. And lastly she was angry at herself for being so weak. Ian placed an arm around her shoulders and a single tear rolled down her cheek as she realized her fate was about to be sealed.

"I present to you our newest agent. The Black Widow."

"Natasha?" Clint's brow creased and his tone was soft as he studied his clammy partner. She had froze in place with a haunted expression on her face, much like the expression she wore on the plane. "Tasha?" He gingerly touched her arm, the feel of her silky skin burning itself into his memory.

"Sorry." Natasha stepped away from his touch as she came out of her daze. She took a shaky breath and closed her eyes, trying to compose herself.

"Memories can be a bitch huh?" Clint looked at her with sympathy.

"How'd you know?" Natasha looked up in surprise.

"Because I have been there." Clint sighed. "Are you ok?" He decided not to pry, not when they were making progress.

"Yeah, fine." Natasha lied. Her mind was burning with curiosity as she wondered what his story was. What had he gone through to be able to stand in front of her at that very moment? What demons had he faced and walked away from? She wanted to know, but she wouldn't ask, not not. Natasha hadn't given him anything, so why should he tell her anything?

"As long as you are sure..." Clint looked at her skeptically, the concern evident in his voice.

"I'm fine Barton. Let's go wreck a party."


	9. Chapter 9

Clint straightened his tie as he stepped out of the long black Limo. He looked up at the large mansion, feeling like he was in some kind of spy movie. The mansion was several stories tall, the windows lit up and filled with the shadows of people. Music drifted through the open doors and out into the parking lot, along with the murmur of a crowd. People were making their way up the steps, all of the dressed as elegantly as the two agents were.

Natasha sighed as the driver opened her door and helped her exit the vehicle, a smile on his face. "Have a fantastic evening madame."

"Thank you." Natasha offered a fake smile before turning to Clint.

"Ready?" Clint offered her his arm.

"As I'll ever be." Natasha laced an arm through his as she tried to resist the urge to pull away from him. Their mission required that they resumed the cover of a couple,that they work together and touch, but she did not like the way that she felt when he touched her. It made her feel like she was exposed, like he was touching something that she couldn't see. Just thinking about his hand on hers made her heart pound a bit harder and she swallowed nervously.

Clint put a smile on his face as they walked towards the entrance where a burly man stood in front of the doors, his arms crossed across his chest. They stopped as the reached him, waiting for their cue to enter.

"Names?" He asked in thick french. He reminded Natasha of a French Bulldog; he was mostly bald with a saggy face. His eyes were deep set and beady, a thick white mustache resting on his upper lip,

"Vincent and Fleur Fresco," Clint replied in smooth French, using their second set of cover names.

"Ah, yes. Mr. Fresco. How nice of you to join us tonight. Your donations have greatly aided our effort. We welcome you."

"It is a pleasure to be here. May we go inside? It is slightly chilly out here and my wife does not deal with the cold well. You know how women are." He chuckled.

"Ah, yes. Please, come inside Madame." Hd smiled at Natasha and moved aside, allowing the "couple" to enter the mansion. They followed the stream of elaborately dressed people to a large ball room, which proved to be the source of the music. An orchestra was set up at the front of the room and the majority of the gust were out on the dance floor.

"Shall we?" Clint asked, casting a glance down at Natasha.

"Do we have to?" She grumbled.

"I won't step on you too much, promise." He teased, pulling her towards an empty spot on the dance floor.

"That is so reassuring." Natasha rolled her eyes as he placed a hand on her waist, stepping closer to her.

Clint closed the distance between them as he began to lead her through a simple waltz, his movements natural and fluid. Natasha, on the other hand, tripped over her own feet as Clint tried to twirl her out and back in. She scrambled to recover and her movements became stiffer as the dance progressed on. Clint frowned as he watched her, his brow creasing as he tried to make sense of the situation; he knew that she'd had formal dancing lessons, so why was she making as ass out of herself?

People began to stare at the out of sync couple and Clint was relieved when there was finally a break in the music. He drug Natasha to the nearest corner, scowling down at her. "What in the hell is the matter with you?"

"I don't know!" She replied pathetically.

"What do you mean you don't know? I know you know how to dance!People are starting to notice us." He hissed.

"I am aware of that." Natasha snapped irritably,racking her brain for a logical excuse.

"You need to relax."

"Excuse me?"

"Relax. Breath. You are way too rigid. Let me lead you and listen to the music."

Natasha scowled as she realized he was right. She was so busy trying to fight his closeness that she was loosing focus of that task at hand. As much as she hated to do it, she was going to have to loosen up and allow him to be close to her.

"Can you do this?" Clint asked very seriously.

"Yes." Natasha bit back a sarcastic remark and allowed him to lead her back onto the dance floor. Another song started, a slower one, and Clint placed his hand on her waist once more.

"Relax." Clint murmured as he began to lead her through the song. Natasha sighed as she closed her eyes and listened to the music, her hand on his shoulder as she let him lead her along. She felt her body relaxing and soon she was moving in harmony with Clint without having to think about it.

"Good girl," Clint smiled as he twirled her out and then in, this time without her missing a beat.

"Shut up." Natasha rolled her eyes but smiled slightly.

The music continued to play and they continued to dance. The action became effortless to the two agents and Natasha let her mind roam as she allowed Clint to move her to the music. In an almost natural move Natasha laid her head against Clint's chest, sighing in content; she didn't seem to notice what she had done. Clint on the other hand swallowed nervously as he looked down at her, not sure what exactly it was that he was feeling. Her closeness was effecting him in ways he would have never thought possible; he didn't allow women to get to him. Especially not women who wanted to kill him the majority of the time. The music stopped playing then and Natasha pulled back, realizing what had happened. She felt the heat rush to her cheeks and Clint cleared his throat, putting more space between them.

"I think it is time to get to work. People seemed to be settled in nicely."

"Yeah." Natasha agreed in a small voice, annoyed with the situation. Of all things, he had made her blush! "What is our first move?"

"No. This is your call."

"Hmm...Let's start with Sir Isaac, he is over near the bathrooms. He seems old and crotchety...let's try the bathrooms."

"Gotcha." Clint smiled.

Natasha laced her arm through Clint's once more, this time careful to keep as much space between them as possible without drawing any attention to it. Clint noticed the change and frowned slightly, but then shook his head. Why should he care? The two made their way over to where an elderly gentleman stood beside the restrooms sipping a long glass of wine. Clint glanced at Natasha and she nodded slightly before they came to a stop right in front of him.

"Give me a minute." Natasha whispered loud enough for Isaac to hear before reaching up and placing a lingering kiss on the corner of Clint's mouth. She then proceeded to saunter into the restroom, leaving the two men behind. It took Clint a moment to collect his thoughts despite the fact that she hadn't actually kissed him. Isaac's huffing pulled him from his wandering thoughts and he turned around, chuckling softly.

"She is quite the woman." Clint commented to Isaac,hoping to provoke him.

"Young hooligans, kissing in public." The older gentleman snorted in disgust.

"Jealous old-timer?" He asked audaciously.

"Excuse me sir?" Isaac gave him a heated look.

"Are you jealous?" Clint repeated tauntingly.

"Do you realize who you are talking to?"

"Do you?" Clint smirked.

"I do say, you young people are-"

"Vincent, dear." Natasha poked her head out the door. "Care to join me? No one is in here and the door has a lock." She batted her eyelashes at him.

"Sorry sir, gotta run." He winked at Isaac.

"I do say! Oh no you don't!" He stalked towards the door, preparing to grab Clint, but suddenly the two agents grabbed him and jerked him inside. Within seconds they had injected the rebel supporter with a deadly toxin and he slumped to the ground, lifeless.

"That was easy." Clint frowned.

"Don't get cocky." Natasha rolled her eyes as they drug the man into a stall, propping him up on the toilet. "One down."

"What now?"

"People are going to notice if these stalls start to fill up and not every target is old enough to care up a couple of audacious young people. Let's visit the punch table and do some dirty work over there."

"Great. I am sure the punch will be to die for."

.

.

Things were going well, too well in Clint's opinion. The men they were targeting suspected no trouble, therefor they proved to be easy marks. The two agents had quickly taken down six of them with ease, using various techniques to keep any suspicion to a minimum. Now they were back on the dance floor as they waited for their next mark to take a seat. Natasha was working on keeping space between herself and Clint, unwilling to let her head rest on his chest once again.

"This has been too easy." Clint commented, trying to break the silence that had settled between them.

"So far. You never know what might happen." Natasha frowned.

"I guess you have a point there." Clint shrugged as he took a look around. "I think our next target just sat down. Shall we?"

"Let's get this over with. I'll distract him and you lace his drink, ok? I am ready to get out of these heels."

"Or I could distract him with my wit and charm." Clint winked at her, grinning.

"I'm sure that would work." Natasha rolled her eyes and they made their way towards the man. They were almost upon their target when the man seated beside him turned around and looked directly at Clint, who froze in his tracks.

"Ah, Agent Barton. I knew you would come over here soon enough."

"Shit." Natasha cursed under her breath. She wasn't sure who the man was, but judging by the expression on Clint's face he wasn't a friend.

"It is so nice to see you again. No, correction: it is nice to not have you trying to kill me again. This time I have the upper hand. You see, Mr. Barton, this time I came prepared. This time I will kill you!" He chuckled darkly, sneering at them. The expression made the memories flood back and Clint was forced to close his eyes as he flew back in time.

Nine year old Clint Barton sat huddled in a corner, clinging to his older brother as he shook uncontrollably. A cruel man paced back and forth in front of them, right through their parent's blood. He was frowning, muttering to himself under his breath as he clutched the bloody knife. The bodies of Clint's parents were tossed to the side like a pile of garbage, as if they didn't even matter. The children had just witness the man murder their parents and they feared it would soon be their turn.

"Damned children! There is always children! Always in the way, always causing trouble!" He let out a long stream of curses, waving the knife around.

"Toby, I am scared." Clint whimpered, burying his face in his brother's chest.

Tobias Barton frowned as he held his little brother tighter, his dark eyes fixed on the man. "It'll be ok Clint. Don't be scared." He gave him a squeeze.

"By all mean, tell the little brat lies," the man sneered at him.

"Go to hell!" The fourteen year old yelled defiantly, glaring at the man.

"I'm about to send you there personally, brat! You, boy, come here!" The man yelled, jerking his thumb at Clint. Toby tried to hold on to him but Clint slowly pulled away, trembling as he walked over to the man. The man leered at him, looking him up and down before smirking. He picked the knife up once more and Clint swallowed nervously; was he about to die? No. Not yet. The man had handed him the knife and crossed his arms. "Here is the deal kid. I only need one of you alive. I like you, you follow orders better than loud mouth. So you are going to kill him. If you don't, I'll have him kill you. If you both refuse, I'll cut the two of you open and leave you to bleed out. Sound fair? Now get with it." He nudged Clint towards Toby.

Clint balked, his eyes wide as he looked frantically between Toby and the man. How was he supposed to kill his only brother, his best friend? It wasn't fair. Anger coursed through his body and he gripped the knife tighter, determination etched on his face. With a cry he leapt towards the man, dragging the knife down the length of his face. The man let out a startled cry before kicking out, catching Clint in the head. The little boy dropped to his knees, his vision swimming, and then everything went black.

Natasha frowned as she noticed several armed guards pushing through the guest as they made their way over to where the agents stood. A glance at Clint told Natasha that he was still stuck in his memories. "Clint." She grabbed his arm. That seemed to snap him out of it and he glanced around, frowning.

"Damnit!" He cursed as the man slipped away and a guard opened fired. He ducked and pulled Natasha down with him as bullets began to whiz past their heads.

The entire ball room fell into chaos as women and men began screaming and running for cover as several more guards opened fired. People shoved past each other, knocking each other down as they ran for the exit. Confusion and panic filled the air as the two agents remained under cover, hiding behind a table.

"What now?" Clint yelled over the commotion.

"We are going to have to wing an escape plan."

"Figures. Here." Clint handed her a pistol from inside his jacket. She slammed the clip in before firing several shots at the guards, taking two down. Clint nodded and they ran for the next table, sliding into cover as a bullet barely missed Natasha. A table splintered beside them and it wasn't long before they were on the run again, heading for the rear exit. Natasha fired return shots whenever she got a chance, but it wasn't enough to phase the guards. The rain of machine gun bullets continued to rip the ball room apart and the two agents continued to run for their lives.

.

.

.

Natasha bolted the door to their hotel room shut before falling against it, her breathing heavy as she tried to catch her breath. Clint collapsed in the arm chair and dropped his head into his shaking hands. Seeing that man there had shocked him and now he was angry that he had escaped-he should have killed that bastard instead of running away.

"Damnit!" He suddenly shouted, breaking the silence and slamming his fist into the arm of the chair. Natasha noticed him wince, then the steady trickle of blood that ran down his arm.

"You're hurt." She scowled as she walked over to where he sat. "Oh, shit! Clint!" Her eyes widened as she spotted the large bullet hole in his bicep. It was as big as a quarter and the flesh around it was ripped.

"Crap, I didn't even realize I was hit." Clint winced as she gently touched the Area that surrounded the bullet hole. "I'll just go wash it off and slap some band aids on it."

"Oh no you won't. The bullet is still in there. Take your jacket off and I'll fix it up."

"I can take care of myself."

"Now is not the time to be a stubborn ass! Now take it off!" She crossed her arms, glaring at him.

"Fine." Clint snapped and began to unbutton his jacket. Natasha crossed the room and pulled the medical kit out of her bag and dug around in it until she finally found everything that she needed. As she turned back around she hesitated, her thoughts skipping a beat as she caught sight of Clint. He was shirtless as he straddled a chair, his chin propped on the back. His hair was now tasseled and Natasha couldn't help but think that he resembled some kind of model; a model with a bloody hole in his arm.

"You aren't going to hurt me, are you?" Clint asked as he saw Natasha's odd look.

"No, not today." Natasha smirked slightly as she sat her supplies on top of the table and went to work. She picked up the syringe and popped it into his skin right next to the bullet hole. Clint winced slightly but held still, trying to think about something other than the pain, but soon his arm was numb. Natasha pulled out another syringe, this one with a darker liquid, and flushed the wound. A mixture of water, blood, and antiseptic drizzled down his arm and dropped onto the floor, creating a puddle that both agents ignored. Clint closed his eyes as Natasha worked and found himself dozing off as she worked. Her touch was gentle and she was careful not to cause him unnecessary pain.

"There." Natasha taped the end of the bandage down and patted his arm gingerly. "We'll need to change out the bandages later, but it should heal up fine."

"Thanks." Clint gave her an appreciative nod. "Are you ok?"

"Am I ok? I'm not the bullet bag. I should be asking if you are ok."

"I am good as new Nat. See?" He flexed his arm before rotating it in a full circle.

"Alright." Her features finally relaxed and Clint was able to see just how tired she was.

"Are you sure you are ok?" He frowned.

"Yeah, I am fine." Natasha tossed the empty syringes into the trash. "Can I ask you something?" She asked suddenly, turning to face him once more.

"Go for it." Clint shrugged.

"That man...who was he Clint?"

"He is the reason I am who I am. He is the reason my brother is dead."

When Clint came to his head was pounding and his vision was still fuzzy. He heard Toby calling his name but it sounded far away, like he was in a tunnel. Suddenly cold water hit his face and he bolted upright, breathing heavily. Toby was crouched beside him, concern evident in his dark eyes. Clint looked around, frowning as he realized they were in a small basement.

"Toby, what happened? Where are we?"

"I don't know Clint. That guy brought us here and locked us in. He said we have an hour to make a decision or he will kill us both." Toby scowled and Clint shrunk back in fear; would his older brother be willing to kill him?

"B-but that isn't fair!"

"Life isn't fair, Clint." Toby replied a bit coldly before crouching down to his brother's level once more, pulling out a knife. Clint was paralyzed and couldn't seem to move, his eyes fixated on the knife in his brother's hand. "You are going to kill me Clint."

"No!" The little boy didn't hesitate in screaming the word.

"Yes! I can't let him hurt you Clint. You have a future ahead of you. I promised mom and dad I would take care of you if something ever happened to them and now I am doing that. You have to do this."

"I can't Toby." Clint couldn't stop the fat tears that rolled down his cheeks. "I love you."

"I love you too, which is why you have to do this. Look at me." Toby titled Clint's face up and innocent blue eyes stared back at him. "You are strong Clint, stronger than I will ever be. You are brave, smart, and clever. You can do this. Then one day you can avenge me. I know it. You are going to go places Clint." Toby pulled his brother into a hug, holding him tightly.

"I'm scared Toby."

"Don't be. Don't think about it Clint. Do this for me. For mom and dad. Just promise me one thing. Promise me that you kill that dirty bastard."

"I promise."

The boys were interrupted as the door creaked open and the murderer stepped inside. A thick gauze bandage was on his face and his eyes were cold and cruel. He sneered at the boys as he walked towards them, a gun hanging loosely in his hand. "Well, have you made a decision?"

"So I shot him." Clint finished, dropping his gaze to the floor as he finished his tale. "I...I just closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. Then it was over." Silence fell over the table and Natasha stared at him with a blank face, like always. Clint sucked in a choppy breath, raking a hand through his hair. "But it never really ended. It still haunts me every time I think about it. I promised Toby that I would kill that bastard and I still haven't done it. He always gets away from me."

"Clint." Natasha finally managed to find her voice and to Clint's surprise she had a look of sympathy on her face. "I'm so sorry."

"Me too...Toby should have killed me instead. I've failed him." Clint hung his head as tears of anger threatened to spill over.

"No." Natasha shook her head before standing up and walking over to him. "You haven't failed him at all. Toby was right about you. He would be proud of the person you've become. Just because you haven't beat your demon yet doesn't mean you won't." She hesitated a moment before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his waist. The act felt unfamiliar to her and she wanted to pull away, but something compelled her to stay put. Clint didn't hesitate as he dropped his head against her shoulder, drawing strength from his partner. No, he corrected himself. His friend.


	10. Chapter 10

Natasha sighed as she stared out the window of the plane and watched the clouds fly past. The inside of the plane was clouded by a thick silence that was only breached by Clint's occasional snoring. The low hum of the engines was like a spell and she yawned sleepily, blinking to keep herself awake. Part of her wanted to sleep, but her brain was alert and wide awake as she thought about the man that sat across the aisle from her. It had been three months since Paris. Three months since she had made a friend.

It was still hard for her to believe that Clint had somehow wormed his way in her life, that he had breached all her defenses. Hard to believe, but not necessarily a bad thing. She had to admit to herself that she enjoyed his company... most of the time-he did have the tendency to be an ass sometimes. Another yawn escaped her and she sighed once more, shaking her head. She was thinking far too much lately.

"You should get some rest. " Clint's voice shattered the silence and startled her. She frowned as she turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I am fine. I'm not tired."

"Yeah, right. We've been flying for ten hours now and you have yet to get some rest. I promise I won't let the plane crash or anything- get some sleep."

"I don't need sleep. Besides, how would you know if I have been resting? You've been snoring since we left the airport."

"I am a growing boy. I need my food and sleep." He grinned at her. "But I know you well enough to know that you don't rest enough."

"You're annoying." Natasha grumbled.

"Take a nap Nat." Clint smirked at her. "Or at least pretend to. Otherwise I might have to sing to you."

"Oh God. Fine." Natasha glared at him before closing her eyes, her breathing slowing as she relaxed.

Clint studied her for a moment, a slight smile on his face, as he thought about the last year and a half. Sometimes he found it hard to believe that he was working with the person who he had been sent to kill; that one of the worlds most wanted assassins was now on his side. And now she was his friend. Clint shook his head at that thought, sighing. Only a few people were close enough for him to call friend and now she was one them, as well as his partner.

Ever since their mission in Paris they had been sent on more missions together and they had quickly became one of the best teams in the world. Sometimes Clint felt as if he had known her his entire life, but the majority of the time she was still a stranger. He had to admit that they really didn't know anything about each other's past; it was a touchy subject and usually resulted in an argument when brought up. Both had their demons they wanted to hide. Both had red in their ledgers.

"Hey Clint?" Natasha suddenly sat up and looked at him with pure curiosity on her face.

"Hmm?" Clint looked up at her, snapping out of his thoughts.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what's up?" He absently traced the carpet patterns with his eyes.

"I was thinking about Paris…and about your brother. You had said that the man gave you a knife in the basemen, but then later you said you shot him. What happened?" She asked voice that left him know he didn't have to answer.

"Ah." Clint made a face, scratching the back of his neck as he tried to force down painful memories.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked." Natasha pursed her lips.

"Nah, you are fine. Uh, Toby was the one who asked to be shot. The man, Tom Hankler, had drug us into the backyard, handed me a knife, and told me to get on with it. Toby knew I couldn't do it, so he asked to be shot. The man had laughed, handed me an extra gun, his own was pointed at me in case I tried anything, and told me to shoot him…I just closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. Toby was looking out for me, even in the face of death. The man left us alone then and I didn't see him again for a long time. I remember crying for what seemed like hours, and then I buried Toby." Clint sighed as ran a hand through his hair. Natasha just nodded slowly as silence crept into the air once more.

"What did he look like?" She finally asked.

Clint hesitated a moment before pulling his wallet out. He opened it and pulled out a photograph, offering it to her. She took it gingerly, feeling as if she was holding part of his childhood. The photograph was of two young boys standing in front of a nice house. The younger boy had a mess of brown and bright blue eyes that shined with mischiveness. He was lean and had a shit-eating grin, a familiar shit-eating grin; Clint's. The older boy that stood next to him was taller and stouter. He had bright green eyes and dark brown, almost black, hair. He had an easy-going smile on his face and his arm was slung over the younger boy's shoulders in a carefree manner.

"He was a good-looking kid." Natasha handed the picture back, a small smile playing at her lips.

"He was a good kid." Clint said softly.

"His brother is a good kid too." She touched his hand briefly, detecting the sadness in his voice. "Who do you look like, your mom or your dad?" Natasha knew she was prying, but for some reason she cared about his past, unlike the other people she knew.

"Toby looked like my mom; he got all the good looks." Clint chuckled, a nostalgic smile on his face. "I look like my dad- a little taller, more buff for obvious reasons. Mom always said I was his mini." He smirked. "And what about you? Who do you look like?" Clint asked before he lost his nerve; he had spent months breaking down the walls that she had put up and he knew she wouldn't hesitate in throwing them back up.

"My mom…" Natasha sighed. Clint nodded, satisfied with the answer, but she continued speaking much to his surprise. "I was an only child. My father worked for the Russian Intelligence Agency and my mother stayed with me so we wouldn't have to move around so much. I remember that we were happy,almost like a normal family. Mh dad was gone a lot, but when he was home we were always happy." Natasha reached under her chair and pulled her bag out, digging through it for several moments before producing a picture. She passed it to Clint, who took it and began to take in every detail.

A tall man leaned against a tree, an easy-going smile on his face. The laugh lines on his face reflected the humor in his blue eyes and he had one arm around a woman's waist. The woman was shorter and had red hair. Her green eyes that shone with love as she looked down at the girl beside her; the young girl had a mess of red curls and bright green eyes. She was wearing a yellow dress with little white flowers, a wide smile on her face as she struck a pose. She looked happy and carefree, unlike the stern-faced woman that sat across from him.

"You need to smile more." He handed the picture back to her with a grin.

"I do smile."

"No, you always give those half smiles or smirks. I've never seen you smile like that."

"That was a long time ago…back when there was something to smile about."

"Ok." Clint shrugged, not forcing the issue. "You were a cute little kid.

"Whatever." Natasha rolled her eyes as she took the picture back. She stared at the faces of her parents and her mind slowly took her back in time, back to a better place.

"Mommy!" Natalia giggled as her mother sat the birthday cake down in front of her. "It is so pretty!" She beamed up at her mother.

"Not as pretty as you." Her mother tapped her nose with a smile, pulling her into a hug. "Are you excited?"

"Of course she is excited!" A deep voice commented from the hall. Natalia squealed as she spun around, running straight into her father's arms. He swept her up and spun her in a circle, smiling. "Ah, darling. I missed you!"

"I missed you too daddy." Natalia hugged his neck, smiling. "I didn't know you were coming home!"

"I wasn't sure I would be able to, but they let me come back for today." He smiled and gave her a squeeze. "Have you been a good girl for mommy?"

"Of course!" Natalia giggled. "I am always good."

"Silly me, why do I even ask?" He father laughed as he sat her down and winked at his wife. "I have a surprise for you."

"What is it?" Natalia grinned up him, squirming in excitement.

"Honey?" He turned to his wife.

"Ready?" She laughed as she bent over and pulled the lid off of a box. A black and white ball of fur tumbled out onto the tile, yapping in excitement. Natalia squealed and dropped to her knees as the puppy tumbled into her lap, his tail fanning the air.

"Happy birthday darling." Her father ruffled her hair and her mother smoothed it back down with a smile.

Natalia grinned as she hugged her father and then her mother. "Thank you!"

"Of course." Her father laughed. "Now let's eat some cake!"

"We had just sat down to eat cake when it happened." Natasha finally spoke, voicing her thoughts. Clint leaned forward, listening to everything she had to say. "It was my twelfth birthday party. My father had just came home from an over seas assignment-he as on temporary leave. I remember my surprise...he was a black and white puppy. I never got to name him." Natasha frowned. "We were sitting at the table eating cake and talking about the puppy when we heard something crash upstairs. My father reached for his gun, only to find that it was upstairs in his suitcase. Footsteps could be heard overhead and my father quickly urged us into the coat closet. He said he was going to go upstairs to take care of things. He gave my mother a kiss and hugged me, telling us he loved us. And then he was gone. I remember I wanted to go find my father and my puppy, but we just sat there and waited in silence for what seemed like hours; I clung to my mother like the helpless child I was, crying silently. We heard a gunshot but we weren't sure who's it was; my father's or the intruders? A few minutes later we heard footsteps and they weren't my father's. There was another gunshot and the puppy screamed...it was then we knew that he had found us then. He pulled us out of the closet and shot my mother before leaving me there to suffer alone. I ran away in shame and fear. I lived on the street for months...and then Ianvitch found me." Her tone turned cold at the last statement and Clint knew she was done sharing.

"You never forget those last moments." Clint shook his head sadly, the scene playing out in his head.

"No, you don't." Natasha agreed bitterly. "I don't believe in ghost, but a memory is enough to haunt you for eternity."

"I will drink to that. Why don't you get some sleep? We will be landing in a few hours and you could use the rest."

"Okay." Natasha didn't argue with him this time and instead closed her eyes, leaning her head back. She was tired and now she wanted to escape the thoughts that clouded her head.

"Hey, Nat?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for sharing that with me." Clint touched her shoulder as he headed towards the back of the nodded slowly before closing her eyes once more, determined to escape reality even if it was only for a few hours.


	11. Chapter 11

Natasha sat alone on an isolated beach as she watched the thunderheads roll in. The angry waves lapped at the shore and thunder rolled in the distance. Lightning lashed out across the dark sky and Natasha smiled as she watched the spectacle. She took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of the storm, and smiled in satisfaction. There was nothing like a good storm to calm her nerves.

She began to pick up small shells and tossed them into the surf only to have them wash back up at her feet. Natasha knew it was dangerous to be out on the beach during a storm like this, but she felt at peace in the storm;it was just like herself- wild and untamed. It couldn't be controlled.

"Natasha." Someone seemed to be calling her name from down the beach, but the wind carried their voice further from her. "Natasha!"

"Natasha,wake up!" Clint finally shook Natasha's shoulder and she snapped out of her dream. Her eyes flew open and she was on her feet within seconds, her pistol in her hand.

"What's wrong?" She demanded as she felt the plane rock back and forth. "Are we in a storm?"

"I wish." Clint grabbed a chair to help stable himself. "We are under fire from the african rebel forces. The ARF has cut off all radio signal and we are under heavy fire. The crew tried to radio for help but they got nothing."

"Oh, this is just fantastic!" Natasha yelped as she was nearly lurched off of her feet. "How close to Kenya are we? Maybe they can send in help."

"We aren't close enough to get any support. We are over the Sahara Desert right now. We are about to cross over the Algeria border into Niger."

"Dammit!" Natasha latched onto the chair as the plane rocked once more. For a few moments an eery silence filled the plane and then there was a terrible screeching sound. The back of the plane twisted and then simply separated from the front as it fell through the air, leaving the top half shaking uncontrollably. The remainder of the plan tipped upwards and Natasha lost her grip on the chair. She began to slide down the aisle, frantically trying to get a hold on anything she passed. She looked over her shoulder and saw the endless desert below her, fear enveloping her; this is how she was going to die, this was the end. No one would ever find her body, she would die alone.

Clint appeared out of now where and grabbed her around the waist as he pulled her towards him. He kept a strong arm around her as he held her close, pressing them against the row of chairs as the plane dipped down. He braced himself as the falling plane began to pick up speed as it plummeted towards the desert below. Natasha clung to Clint like her life depended on it. There was a loud crash as the nose of the plane hit the ground and then an explosion of sand, then everything went black.

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Clint's head was pounding as he began to regain consciousness and he was aware that every fiber of his being hurt. His mouth was dry and he felt extremely hot. He groaned as he rolled onto his back and forced his eyes open, the sun temporarily blinding him. His visiom began to clear as he sat up, sand rolling out of his hair and clothes.

"Ug." His stomach churned as he looked at the sight before him. The nose of the plane was partially buried in the sand and the cockpit was busted open. One of the pilots hung half way out of the cracked window and his partner was flung several feet from the plane. Provisions where scattered scattered around the crash site and Clint spotted some of his belongings amongst the mess. Smoke drifted from from somewhere in the west where the tail end had landed.

"I ain't dead yet." He muttered to the circle of vultures that circled over head.

Clint dropped his gaze from the buzzards to the ground and found an even more disturbing sight than the dead pilots. A crumpled woman lay near him, blood smeared down her cheek. Her left arm was pinned beneath her body and Clint see blood trickling from a thick gash on her right arm. A vulture was hopping about near her body, getting bolder with every passing second. He finally hopped close and snapped at a piece of her hair, giving it an experimental tug.

"Hey!" Clint yelled feebly, his voice cracking, as he pushed himself to his feet. He wasn't injured, but he still felt dazed from the crash. He staggered towards the woman and the bird, waving his hands in attempt to shoo it off. Eventually the bird leaped into the air with a screech, flying back towards its flock overhead. Clint reached the woman and bent down, pressing his fingers to her neck; there was a pulse. She was alive. Relief coursed through his body and then determination.

"Hang in there Nat." Clint shook his head to clear the last bit of fogginess that remained and made his way to the wreck of the plane. He began checking the scattered supply cases and soon found what he was looking for: a blanket.

The desert heat and the aftermath of the crash made the work hard, but Clint had managed to roll Natasha onto the blanket and drug her into the scarce shade of the plane. He propped her up the best her could before turning to the wreckage of the plane and groaning. He had so much work to do.

Clint began the work by dragging the two dead pilots away from the wreckage of the plane. He drug them over the sand dunes so that they were out of sight and then returned to the plane. He then gathered the loose provisions and stacked them beside the plane, hoping to deter the vultures overhead. Once everything was stacked he made a mental list of what that had, a sense of security finally settling over him. Other than some mission luggage everything seemed to be there. There was plenty of food and water, so they would be in good shape for a few days.

Clint grabbed two bottles of water and a loose shirt before returning to his partners side. He looked her over with a sigh, relieved that she wasn't seriously injured. She had a small cut on her forehead, which was the cause the blood on her face. The gash on her bicep wasn't as deep as it initially looked, so Clint cleaned them off and then bandaged them the best he could; that kind of stuff wasn't his forte.

"Time to wake up Natasha." Clint gently shook her shoulder but received no response. He opened the second bottle of water and poured a bit on her face, nudging her once more. "Come on Nat."

Natasha moaned and then her eyes fluttered open. Clint let out a pent up breath and smiled as he helped her sit up. She frowned in confusion as she looked around her, then realization seemed to dawn on her.

"Where'd we crash?"

"Somewhere between Niger and Algeria. Not sure where exactly." Clint shrugged. The situation wasn't the best, but things were definitely looking better.

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"So what's the plan?" Natasha asked as she sat down underneath the make shift canopy. The two, mostly Clint, had spent the afternoon preparing a camp of sorts. He had used the rods off the plane's railing to erect four poles in the ground. He then covered them with a tarp, creating a square of shade in the sun soaked desert. They had detached two of the four chairs left on the plane and moved them into the shade where both agents now sat.

"It is getting too late to do anything else at the moment. I doubt the radios will work again-they were partially melted. I've done enough reading to know that it is going to get cold as soon as the sun goes down. We only have a few hours before the temperature drops. I am not going to sleep out here in the cold and in the open. I'll use a tarp to cover the hole in the cock pit so I can store our provisions in there. Then I'll pull the last two chairs out so we have a place to sleep."

"What do you want me to do?" Natasha's knees were pulled up to her chest and her chin was perched on them.

"Nothing. You've already done too much. Just sit there and rest."

"But-"

"No but's." He said sternly, giving her his best serious look.

"Fine...Jerk." Natasha frowned at him.

"Excuse me for trying to keep you healthy." He mockingly frowned back at her before getting to work.

Natasha watched as he began fixing the hole in the cock pit, a feeling of uselessness overcoming her. As she watched him struggle with the tarp she felt as if she could be helping him; instead she was stuck in the damned chair. Nearly an hour passed and she was somewhat grateful he had told her to stay put as he began to pull the last two chairs out, sweat dripping down his face. Finally Clint rejoined her under the canopy and sat down with a yawn. Natasha handed him a bottle of water and he took a long sip of it before sighing.

"There, all done."

"Now what?" Natasha looked around the small camp site.

"Now we get to move all this stuff. You can help with that if you want."

Natasha nodded and together the two of them began moving provisions back into the plane. While Clint organized everything within the cock pit Natasha began to use extra blankets and tarps to make a pallet of sorts in the middle of the plane. She found a few pillows outside and tossed them down, nodding in satisfaction; it wasn't the best, but she had slept on worse. For a moment her mind drifted back to a roach motel she had stayed in Japan. A shiver ran down her spine but she shook the thoughts from her head with a sigh; No use fretting over the past.

Clint reappeared at that moment, his bow case and a lantern in hand. He sat them down next to the pallet before stretching. "You good in here?"

"Yep." She leaned against the wall of the plane, shivering slightly from the feel of the cold metal. She could tell the temperature had dropped several degrees since they had "landed" and she longed for some warmer clothes.

"I am going to make sure I didn't miss anything. I found one of my bags." He tossed her the bag. "You can dig through it and try to find something warm to wear. It is getting cold out there."

"Okay." Natasha finally noticed that he had changed into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

"If you need anything just holler." He grabbed a flashlight from the stack of provisions and then he was gone, leaving her alone in the dimly lit plane.

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Clint returned half an hour later, right after nightfall. Natasha was now wearing a pair of his sweats and a hoodie that was far too big for her. Clint chuckled slightly at the sight and she glared at him before turning the lantern on. He grabbed the last tarp they had and secured it over the hole in the back of the plane, sealing them in and unwanted creatures out.

"I am exhausted." Clint sat down with a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Only because you wouldn't let me help with anything." Natasha frowned at him as she sat down beside him.

"You didn't need to strain your arm today. Speaking of that, are you feeling ok?" He asked as she crossed her legs and yawned.

"I am fine. I feel a lot better actually."

"Good. We should get some sleep." Clint kicked off his shoes before turning the lantern off. Darkness engulfed the plane as Clint crawled under a layer of blankets, adjusting his pillow under his head. He felt Natasha crawl in beside him and he rolled over the face her. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"I am fine Clint." He could practically hear the eye roll in her voice and he chuckled. "What?" She demanded.

"Nothing." Clint grinned into the darkness. "Go to sleep."

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The first thing that Natasha noticed as she began to wake up was the smell; whatever it was it smelt fantastic. She could make out a mixture of sweat, aftershave and a musky smell. It was then she realized that her head was resting on something firm, but it was a comfortable firm. She slowly opened her eyes, wincing as the light from hurt her eyes. She blinked a few times, then realized her head was on Clint's chest. She was tucked against his side and his arm was slung over her waist. She froze, part of her wanting to jerk away and put distance between them. The other part of her had no desire to move. She finally decided she was quite comfortable and she shrugged before closing her eyes once more, inhaling deeply. Natasha felt Clint's chest vibrate beneath her and his breath tickled her ear as he chuckled.

"Someone is comfortable." His voice was husky with sleep.

"So what if I am." Natasha scowled, realizing she might have made a mistake.

"Don't be so touchy." Clint nudged her ribs with a finger, causing her to squirm.

"Don't make stupid remarks." She countered.

"Not much of a morning person, huh?" Clint continued to tease her. "Maybe you just need some coffee...Want me to get up and make you some eggs and bacon?"

"Ass." Natasha mumbled she but didn't move, closing her eyes once more.

"Yes, I have an ass. I also have a-"

"Ugh." Natasha cut him off and slapped his chest. "I am trying to sleep."

"Yeah, on top of me. My apologies...princess." He added the last bit with a smirk, knowing it would set her off.

"Fine, I'll get up! Happy now?" She glared at him as she rolled over and sat up. She yawned and rubbed at her eyes, a sense of sleepiness still clouding her mind.

"Yes, Because I need to piss like a racehorse." There it was, that shit-eating grin of his. She rolled her eyes and slugged his arm before standing up, heading towards the cock pit as her stomach rumbled. A few minutes later Clint joined her in her search and together they dug out a few bottles of water, some trail mix and jerky.

"Breakfast of champions." Natasha commented as they sat down outside underneath the canopy. The sand was warm underneath her feet and she sighed in content. "This feels good." She wiggled her toes in the sand.

"We are practically at the beach," Clint teased. "Just watch out for spiders instead of crabs... There happens to be one by your foot."

"Gah!" Natasha jerked her feet up and Clint started snickering, looking away as he tried to keep a straight face. "You are such an ass!"

"What's the matter? Scared of a little spider?"

"No! But you should be." She glared at him and threw a pretzel at his head. "On a more serious note, if you can ever be serious, how long do you think we are going to be stuck out here?"

"I dunno. I imagine SHIELD will locate us within a few days; we are pretty valuable you know. Or at least I am." Clint dodged another pretzel. "Until they find us we can enjoy our tropical vacation."

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"Honestly Clint. You are such a child." Natasha said in an annoyed tone as Clint splashed water at her. They had found a small oasis near the crash sight and decided to take advantage of the fresh water.

Clint's shirt was tossed carelessly onto the sand beside Natasha, who was sitting in the shade of a palm tree. Her eyes scanned the horizon as she tried to find something to look at other than her shirtless partner. A light splay of hair ran down his chest and belly. His shorts, weighted down with water, hung low on his hips, leaving little to the imagination. She hated that such good looks were wasted on a complete goofball.

"Come on, come swim." He whined like a little kid, rolling onto his back and floating through the water.

"I plan on it as soon as you stop acting stupid."

"Fine. I'll stop. Scout's honor." He grinned at her and pressed a finger to his forehead. Natasha just rolled her eyes before pulling her shirt off, tossing it onto the desert sand beside his. She now wore nothing but a sports bra and a pair of his short; something that Clint didn't miss. He shook the suggestive thoughts from his head and sighed. He knew it was crazy, but he had to admit that his partner was stunning, even when she was pissed at him.

"Stop gawking at me." Natasha splashed water at him with a frown.

"Stop being a child," Clint attempted to mock her but it was a horrible imitation. She rolled her eyes and Clint splashed her back with a smirk.

"Oh, shut up!"

"Nah, I like to bug you." Clint grinned at her and dodged another splash. He hadn't seen this side of Natasha before. She was more laid back, more carefree...more normal. It had been three days since they had crashed in the Sahara Desert and he felt like something had changed between them. He couldn't quite but his finger on it, but he knew something was different.

His thoughts were interrupted as his head was forced underwater. Water ran up his nose and he came up sputtering and spitting water out of his mouth. Natasha was smirking at him, her arms crossed and a look of satisfaction on her face. Clint slowly grinned at her and the smirk faded as she backed away.

"Don't you even!"

"You started it." Clint grinned. "I am going to finish it."

"Stay away from me!" She began back peddling through the water but Clint grabbed her leg, pulling her back towards him. "Clint Barton!"

"Revenge is oh so sweet." Clint dunked her under the water, laughing as he held her in place for a moment. When he let her go she surfaced closer to him than either had anticipated ; she was practically nose to nose with him and he gave her that smart ass grin. "Well, hello there."

Natasha tried to form some kind of intelligent response, but his closeness was causing her brain to go foggy. The grin slowly faded from his face as they continued to stare at each other, their eyes boring into one another's. She could practically feel the rise and fall of his chest and she managed to swallow the lump in her throat. His lips parted slightly and he dipped his head- she knew what was coming but she couldn't move; looking back on it, maybe she didn't want to move. She felt an unfamiliar sensation in her stomach and her heart hammered in her chest as he moved closer. And then Clint Barton kissed her.


	12. Chapter 12

She had been in the sun too long. Se had sun fever. That was the only explanation that Natasha cold come up with to justify her current actions. She was standing waist deep in the water beside her partner, half naked, her arms wrapped around his neck, and she was kissing him. She knew it was wrong, so wrong-every fiber of her brain was screaming at her to pull away, to sock Clint in the mouth before the damage was done, but she knew in her heart that it was too late.

Natasha's hands were already running through his hair and his fingers were tangled in her long locks. She liked it;she liked the way his lips felt on hers, the way he tasted, the way he made her feel human. Natasha closed her eyes as he kissed her and she took every detail into memory, as if she would somehow forget this moment. But then it was over.

"Natasha, I'm-" Clint didn't hesitate in speaking as they pulled apart, their chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath.

"Don't." Natasha cut him off and took a step back, putting space between them as she tried to clear her head. "Please don't say you are sorry that just happened. Say anything, but don't say that. I can't handle hearing that again." Her tone was icy and hurt, just like her heart. Within seconds she had thrown those walls back up and retreated to her old ways; she had let him in and he hurt her, just like Ianvitch. He was going to tear her down and she already felt the pain forming in her chest. He had become her friend, her best friend if she was being honest with herself. They argued and occasionally came to blows, but they were also a team: Two parts to a whole. And he had just destroyed that.

"Not everyone in life is going to hurt you Nat." Clint's eyes were sad as he stepped towards her, putting a hand on her arm to keep her from backing up again. "And you should know by now that I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. Do you trust me?"

Trust, a word that made Natasha cringe. Trust was a sore spot for her. The last person she had truly trusted was Ianvitch and all that had gotten her was pain and heartache. Ever since he had taken her in her life had been full of lies and false promises; promises that left her heart colder and harder with each broken one. She had quickly learned that people were made to hurt each other, that they were liars by nature.

But then there was Clint, the excepting to everything she thought she knew. He had never tried to hurt her, he had never lied to her- if anything he was overly blunt about the truth. His honesty had meant something to her, even if she hadn't realized it until now. Her mind replayed the last several months and she looked back on all the times he'd had her back, all the times he had helped her out of a sticky situation. She hated to admit it, but she enjoyed the time she had spent with him, and by some miracle she did trust him. Natasha knew she could rely n him, she knew that he wouldn't make a promise he couldn't keep.

Natasha blinked rapidly as she felt the tears forming and she bit the inside of her cheek, unwilling to cry. It had been so long since she had shed any tears and she was wasn't about to start crying on his account. Clint frowned as the silence continued between them and he finally took a step back, nodding to himself.

"I understand." His jaw was set and he turned his back to her, staring daggers into the horizon as he ground his teeth. Natasha couldn't believe him! He was the worlds biggest idiot. What in the hell had he been thinking?

"Clint." Natasha finally found her voice and she hated that it cracked as she said his name. Clint turned around with a hurt look on his face that resembled the one he wore when he talked about Toby. She realized that her not trusting him was a major blow to him, although that wasn't actually the case. "You are such a moron." Natasha shook her head and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him. "Yes."

"What?" Clint frowned in confusion, his hands by his sides.

"Yes, I trust you. I'm sorry-you know I am no good at this kind stuff." She frowned

"And I am?" He chuckled and wrapped an arm around her. It was an unfamiliar gesture to him, but it felt right to be holding her close. "I was going to say I am sorry if I made you mad or hurt you; I know you are a lot like me. Hell, who am I kidding, we are practically the same person. We don't like to establish connections with people, we don't like friends and we avoid anything that could resemble any kind of relationship." Clint paused as he searched for the right words. "So I know that me acting on impulse probably shocked the shit out of you and I would understand if you were mad...Or hurt." Clint scratched the back of his neck as he dropped his gaze, wishing he could come up with something better than that.

"I'm not mad, but I am a bit surprised. And confused." Natasha admitted with a sigh.

"Confused?"

"I am not sure what I am supposed to feel about all this. I don't want to risk getting hurt, I don't want to set myself up for that. But something inside of me wants this; it wants to be held, it wants to be cared for. It is like I am fighting myself and I don't know how to win."

"I don't want to do that to you Nat. Forget this ever happened, stop trying to figure it out."

"I can't just forget."

"Then what do you want me to do?" He looked down at her with a sigh.

"Stop talking." Natasha reached up and kissed him once more. As they pulled apart Clint was surprised to see she was actually smiling. Her eyes held a hint of amusement as she assessed his expression. "What's the matter Barton? Never been kissed before?"

"I, uh." Clint mumbled in a daze. "Not like that."

"Apparently not." Natasha smirked at him and splashing water at his face. "Snap out of it bird boy." Natasha suddenly frowned as she heard the faint sound of a helicopter. "Do you hear that? Or am I crazy?"

"Yes you are crazy and yes I hear it."

"Haha,very funny."

"I'll be damned. Fury actually found us."

"Fantastic. I could use a shower..and a hot meal...and a sand-free pair of pants."

"An empty bed would be nice." Clint added, putting distance between them; there was no use to raise suspicion with any of SHIELDS superiors when he wasn't even sure what was happening between himself and Natasha.

"Are you saying you didn't enjoy our temporary sleeping arrangements?" Natasha asked with a straight face, inwardly smirking as Clint's jaw dropped.

"That's not what I meant!"

"Stop being so serious all the time." Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Do you realize how ironic it is for you to say that to me?" Clint snorted.

"Oh, whatever." Natasha began to wade her way towards the sandy shore."I guess we should head back to the plane; the chopper is pretty close."

"I agree. But I have one question."

"Hmm?" Natasha asked as she slipped on a shirt and wrung the water out her hair.

"What is exactly is all this?" Clint gestured to them, raising an eyebrow.

"A mess." Natasha responded with a sad smile, but it was the truth. She wasn't sure what they had just started and she wasn't sure she wanted to know what the results would be. She did know that things were going to get messy.


End file.
